Journey

into stillness

I am 27 years old and I am with friends at a techno concert of electro music, an unfamiliar world to me. One of my friends offers me ecstasy – the so-called drug of love. I am tempted. The experience is both exciting and scary. "This evening remains etched in my memory. The effect of the drug is to make me feel connected to the immensity of what I am, cleansed from all my fears, serene and peaceful. I feel a new impulse of life carried by the deep intuition that there is, inside of me, something bigger than me." That night, I was very lucky to see clearly that drugs were not the path that would lead me to this place of freedom: the freedom from one's own neuroses, from those beliefs that make the relationship to one-self and others so narrow and confrontational. I became profoundly aware that the path that had opened before me was that of detachment, while the drug was calling for attachment. The call was to leave my habits, not to create an addiction and es-pecially not this particular one. That same evening, I decided to go to India and my life took a completely different turn.

by Denis Robberechts

Delhi, early morning. "It's

here," the taxi driver an-

nounces. My heart tightens: it

had felt safe to watch the

hustle and bustle of India

from inside the vehicle. Al-

though it is still early, there

are already a lot of Indians on

the streets, not to mention all

those who sleep on the side-

walks. I take refuge in my ho-

tel room. No window, not too

clean, spartan, but it's enough

for me to feel safe.

It’s not until the afternoon that

I venture out onto Pahar

Ganj's main street. The street

is teeming with people. In ad-

dition to the crowds of pedes-

trians, there are all kinds of

vehicles, fruit stalls and other

shops on carts, dogs and

cows... Monkeys who watch

the fruit from the rooftops and

run on a jumble of power

lines above our heads. "Hello

my friend, how are you?"

"Where do you come from?"

"What is your name?" Ques-

tions come from every direc-

tion. I feel like I am the centre

of attention. "Come to my

shop" is usually the next sen-

tence. An hour later and I ha-

ven’t got very far.

It didn’t take me long to figure

out how to handle awkward

situations, like learning how

to get out of a shop without

buying stuff I absolutely did

not need. Very quickly, I had

to learn to say no. The clearer

my no became – and the

more resolute my tone of

voice - the less people per-

sisted and the less I found

myself in positions from

which it was difficult to extri-

cate myself ... India’s

teaching had begun.

In Rajasthan, I met a friend

who, like me, was tired of tra-

veling by train or bus, going

from one tourist trap to the

next. We decided to trek

through the Thar Desert, from

Pushkar to Jaisalmer using

donkeys to carry our luggage.

We gave ourselves a week to

get ready. It took us over a

month.

India is slow, and our pa-

tience was severely tested.

We used this time to learn the

basics of Hindi and to cook

with what whatever was at

hand. People gave us recom-

mendations, talked about the

desert. "Do not sleep in hol-

lows, that’s where snakes

pass through", "Do not set up

your camp next to a water

point, the tiger might come to

drink and attack your

donkeys" ... Afterwards, I was

grateful that life had organi-

zed all these setbacks. This

imposed preparation time

proved extremely valuable! I

began to accept the fact that

life has its own rhythm and

intelligence, and that the spi-

ritual journey is a constant

invitation to let go of control

and to be carried away by

something beyond reason.

Finally we left: enthusiastic,

and fearful. We had been

India

I became

profoundly

aware that the

path that had

opened before

me was that of

detachment,

while the drug

was calling for

attachment.

warned against gangs of

armed robbers who loot vil-

lages, rape and kill. But our

biggest fear was the leap into

the unknown.

The entire village of Pushkar

came to see us off. In Indian

culture donkeys are consi-

dered impure, so they were

confused to see two young,

white (so obviously rich)

people leave with donkeys!

We walked 600 km towards

the West, without a map or

compass. At every village we

passed we were set upon by

people touching our bags,

wanting to know what we

were carrying. The fact that

we were traveling with

donkeys provoked hysteria,

and many of the desert folk

seemed to lose the innate

respect they have for travel-

lers. Fortunately, we always

met wise people who were

able to go beyond their cultu-

ral conditioning. Without

them, it is likely that certain

moments of hysteria would

have turned into the looting of

our luggage. And at the same

time, because we were trave-

ling with donkeys, we were

invited in by simple and open

people. In these meetings,

we discovered a generosity

like nowhere else. Rich or

poor, they cooked their best

food for us, invited us to stay

for several days, fed our

donkeys, and gave us some

money to continue our jour-

ney. The elders of the family

would explain: "You are far

from home, it is our duty to

take care of you". Or "It is the

Gods who have sent you to

offer us the chance to help".

I was struck by how available

people were. Throughout our

stay, we enjoyed their ge-

nuine curiosity and caring at-

tention. It made me feel asha-

med to think how little time I

spent with my friends. What

can be more generous than

being fully available?

This trek took five weeks and

was full of adventures. Our

donkeys were attacked by

buffaloes, I thought I was

dying of dysentery, we were

greeted with open hearts and

also had rocks thrown at us. I

found myself running through

the desert in the middle of the

night, half naked, trying to

catch my runaway donkey, so

many stories ... I was ente-

ring deeper into the journey... The spiritual journey is a con-

stant invitation to let go of con-

trol and to be carried away by

something beyond reason.

I stayed in India. Since the

start of my trip, I had studied

with a master of Indian classi-

cal music. He became like a

father to me and I spent all

my winters with him in Be-

nares. As soon as spring arri-

ved, I went walking in the

foothills of the Himalayas:

with no destination and al-

ways without a map or com-

pass, with only a few provi-

sions in a bag. I slept in

people’s homes, in caves, or

under the sky ... I had very

strong inner experiences,

ranging from a total loss of

meaning to a euphoric sense

of freedom. It always inspired

the same questions: "Who

am I without my habits? Or

"How does it feel not to know

where we are going?" I think I

was trying to lose myself, to

be no one, to leave behind all

my conditioning, my identity.

During one of these walks, I

remember constantly thinking

about my mother's death to

the point where it felt like a

premonition. It was on the

third night, lying in a cave (I

learned later that it had been

inhabited for a long time by a

highly respected hermit), that

a new understanding emer-

ged: "It’s my mother inside

me who is dying, my rela-

tionship to her is changing, I

can let it go ". Another time, I

saw myself as a boat leaving

the shore to launch into the

waves. Walking aimlessly

was doing its work!

One day, I felt a need to re-

flect. Miraculously, a pretty

little house appeared. Far

from any village, it had been

built by a hermit, who had

died a few years before. I

found the keys and settled

there. I stayed there for five

months. Alone, without rea-

ding, without mu-

sic, without any

distraction. Cut-

ting wood, tending

the fire for coo-

king and warmth,

fetching water,

gardening. I

quickly learnt that

the simple life is

not easy! It takes

a lot of structure

and a thousand

small skilful ac-

tions to provide

the bare mini-

mum. It was there

that I really en-

joyed the plea-

sure of simple

things, this deep feeling of

not wanting anything and

being truly satisfied. It's like a

sweet, intimate, safe and

peaceful joy. I realized that

this feeling of wanting nothing

is also a feeling of wealth, the

very wealth that so many

people seek through

ownership and accumulation.

For several years, I returned

to recharge my batteries in

this small house in the Hima-

layas during the monsoon

season with its torrential

rains, so conducive to immo-

bility and introspection. I

practiced meditation, and was

letting life take care of sim-

plifying me.

My style of traveling began to

change. I felt less and less

need to move around, to dis-

cover new places and to live

new experiences. My inner

world became the territory I

explored. It is there that,

more and more, I discovered

a great adventure.

I spent seven years in this

country where "yesterday"

and "tomorrow" are the same

word “Khal”. I continued my

music lessons, solitary re-

treats, and visits to monaste-

ries and ashrams.

Sometimes I went home for a

few months. People would

say, "Why go so far, every-

thing is already here." Now I

know it's true. But it is only far

from home that I finally un-

derstood.

Alone

If traveling is synonymous

with "discovering", then it is

more of a state of mind than

physical displacement. The

closed mind can change

countries without changing

universes, the open mind can

change universes without lea-

ving home.

Today I live in a small village

in France, with my family. I

practice meditation: the inner

exploration, the greatest of

journeys. I share my expe-

riences on retreats in France

and abroad. Once a year, I

take a group to India for a trip

off the beaten track and

share the experience of a

country I love. It is an oppor-

tunity to come together

around the same quest for

meaning, to meditate toge-

ther and to open up to a diffe-

rent kind of freedom and in-

dependence.

The next trip will take place in

the November 2019. Destina-

tions: the Himalayas,

Dharamsala (where the Dalai

Lama lives), Benares for the

festival of light mandalas, one

of the most beautiful festivals

of India, and Pushkar, the ga-

teway to the Desert.

Trusting the intelligence of life

that is inside us - which is us

- makes it possible to follow

its path, without complying or

seeking to copy. Just follow

this path and you will go far.

https://

www.dharmanature.org

The closed mind

can change

countries with-

out changing

universes,

the open mind

can change

universes

without leaving

home.